


Songs of a Songbird

by orenjist



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Illiad, Irene as Irene, Seulgi as Helen of Troy sksksk, slowburn, the Goddess of Peace i mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orenjist/pseuds/orenjist
Summary: She watched the bronze mane slide from the lady’s abrupt stop; her bronze skin glow under the light torch, and the flecks of gold in her eyes that flashed and faded as it watched her alarmingly.However, before she could revel completely in her beauty, the young lady beside her spoke up.“Lady Seulgi, this is Irene, daughter of Philemon, the brewer of wine, and Ilena, the finest seamstress of Troy. For King Priam, she would be a close friend’s daughter; if you’d ask the queen, she would’ve had branded her as her own. But tonight, she will be, to you…...a companion or a friend till the end of spring!”orthe Illiad but the gods actually want to stop the war - and not create it (!!!) - and so, as the Goddess of Peace, Irene volunteered to walk the earth and meddle take the matter into her hands, and of course, it had to do something with Seulgi of Troy.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Kang Seulgi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	1. War and Peace

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I am reading the Illiad - for the sole sake of lessening my boredom - and fell into this train of ideas as I was spacing out (cause the paragraph spacings and countless names are hell of an eyesore), and thought: why not? So this was born. Anyway, I tried to make my writing ancient - if it was the repercussions of reading a classic or me projecting it, I don't know - but of course, I don't want anything superfluous; so maybe, I would change how they speak on the next chapters (also to save myself).  
> .  
> Anyhow, I need to say something important: this is greek mythology, therefore, incest is a thing (whether we like it or not) and will exist in this story. If this concept would be uncomfortable to you, then, look away.  
> I had half a mind to change the names of the gods to other kpop idols, but I figured I'd forgot who I assigned who to who and I don't want to be scrolling back (Greek names are *chef's kiss* too).  
> Lastly, I would probably change things in retrospect (hopefully nothing major). Why I had posted this if I didn't have a resolute mind? so I would be forced to continue it!  
> Ok, bye besties enjoy ;d

“Silence!”

The hall of Olympus rumbled as Zeus Cronius roared through the other gods' and goddesses’ debates. And they all sat silent. Zeus glared at the participants until he was sure that they would not utter a single word.

He rubbed his beard white beard thoughtfully and started: 

“I need not to tell you, but a war is coming. No less of bloodshed, no less of ruin and chaos. For the next months, our sons will kill their brothers, and our daughters will be captured - if not killed - to another man's house. 

“But I called you all here not to argue nor tell me the possibilities of our current predicament: it will happen whether will like it or not. We can only either accept it - which needless to say is impossible - or... change it.” 

A hand raised itself at the farthest edge of the hall. Everyone turned to a lean man with a clean and macho face. It was Apollo Shootafar, the god of music and poetry. 

“Then father, what do you suggest to do, to then change it.” 

Once again, the party erupted into murmurs. But Zeus rapped his throne and they all are muted once again.

“There are only three persons involved: two men named Paris of Troy, son of King Priam and Menelaus of Sparta, brother of King Agamemnon; and a woman who they long to keep.

“Aphrodite promised the young prince the most beautiful lady of Greece*, which Paris had claimed. However, our Goddess had overlooked that the lady is already married to Menelaus, brother of King Agamemnon: who was then angered by the proceedings. 

“Several months from now, Agamemnon will get courageous and will gather his troops to set for Troy - where Alexandros has brought his lover - and reclaim his brother’s wife and Sparta’s glory. 

He peered at everyone gloomily and declared lowly:

“Now then, everyone, as you can see, men of war are intransigent and obstinate; their resolutions are no different from ours; they will not back down. 

Then, tell me, isn’t it apparent: if these men cannot be bent nor yield, who’s one for us to convince.” 

Zeus finished loftily. It was not a hard feat to realize his implications, hence, several gods raised their hands in suggestion, but his son caught his eye. Ares, a bald brawny man with scars tattoed around his body, inquired:

“Then all these things, as obvious as they are; isn’t it also obvious who shall we hold accountable for these things? My dear Aphrodite, do you not keep tabs of your actions?”

The most alluring woman of the crowd was angered by his insinuations, so she pushed herself out of her seat.

“Do you mean to say that I bred this war brother?! I had merely gifted him as I saw fit, what happens after is something I could not control! However, it is indeed true that there are faults in my actions, but you do not blame me solely for it!” 

Before they could enter another useless fit, the Goddess of Peace, Eirene, one of Zeus’ favorite daughter interposed in a calm voice:

“My dear brother and sister, have we, not enough problems to pursue. Haven’t it occurred to you that to put blame will be unfruitful as standing still?

“It is correct, Aphrodite had made a mistake, but it is all done for; nothing could be changed in the past; no amount of regretting could foster change. However, we are here now to converse, to realize what can be changed - and evidently, as father presented, there is still a room for change.”

She turned to her father after seeing that her fellow gods have calmed down. 

“Can I suggest, father?”

Zeus, ever believing of his daughter, smirked proudly and nodded to her. Eirene turned to everyone, addressing her fellow with resolute eyes, she heaved her robes once and then exclaimed:

“I, Goddess of Peace, have always been involved in the affairs of the mortals, not of my own amusement but only to fulfill my duty. I had talked to men to pacify their anger and drop their swords; to women to let go of malignancy over their friends; I had caressed the children to release their fists; I had sung to oxen and mules to sleep. That I am almost mortal as much as a goddess if the time spent on earth could be a basis.

“However, before I suggest, I have to tell you a story I have watched before my eyes, one that has thoroughly touched me in the lands of the earth:

“In my days in Sparta, I had watched a couple in their home - they have a large family filled with mirth and jaunty with their everyday lives that I was more than content to watch - but, it soon have changed when the man of the house came home from the war. The man was nothing chivalrous nor kind: he was boastful of the achievements he hasn’t taken part with; a profligate who spends money he did not own; a person who looks down on men who farm and women of the house. To top it all, he had also been hitting her wife for a fit of anger that she did not beget. 

“I was unable to calm his heart, he is evidently a hubris is he not? Nevertheless, I am not to give up. I had tried to persuade his family to relinquish hopes for him and just abscond. And though they had listened and had become steadfast, the wife stood in their fidelity. 

“But as spring came, I am pleased to say, her friend who came from an island far away, whom she waited at the docks with merriment: knew of their predicament and had so convinced her to leave as her members pleased. And yes, she said! so easy had she done it! 

“Then, by summer, when the father had come home inebriated late at night, not a single light have greeted him in the outside, nor the clinging of glass sounded the air: only the cries of the cicadas, the milk of the moonlight…and an empty house.

“And so, I suppose the story has melded into you, to realize what I so wish you to know. By then you would understand my proposal:

“My dear father, I, Eirene, the Goddess of Spring, have realized sooner than later that Aphrodite’s spell can not be altered as it is done. Instead, if we could not change her in the name of eros, then is the answer not glaring enough for us to realize that we could change a woman’s heart through another kind of love?

“Then allow me father, to lay it to you: I am no stranger to the dealings of men, and my heart naturally desires for peace in all respect. I do not wish for war or something as feeble as arguments.

She glanced at Artemis and Aphrodite with a sigh and continued:

“So dutifully, I present myself, send me to the lands of Troy. I will become the solution you utterly desire: to befriend my dear lady to and cajole her return to her origin land, and as consequence, the war that you have feared, will be then pacified.” 

Zeus beamed as he looked at his associates nodding in approval. He collected himself and boasted with the clap of his hand: 

“As you so wish my daughter, as you so wish - then - go! have your way with Seulgi of Troy!” 


	2. The Most Beautiful Woman of Greece

A bee hovered erratically above a sunflower, its wings and large eyes glistening against the harsh light, and in intervals, it pierces like a knife as it reflected the light. It paused, raised its antenna, and stared ahead; as if it's holding its breath. If you look closely, you might see it tilting its head in inquisition and curiosity. 

Until finally, it blinked as if getting sucked out of its trance, and buzzed around once again. For a while, it seemed to survey the other sunflowers around it, but suddenly, without warning, as though bumping on a wall, dropped on the unsuspecting flower’s disk. It sniffed on the seeds, digging on it with its legs, and, as if reading a mortifying passage on the seed: glared on it, motionless. 

From afar, another buzzing of a bee resonates in between the bunch. The stagnant bee turned its head and, with the same curiosity, watched as it planted itself on a sunflower nearby. 

“Lady Seulgi!” a shrill voice cried. 

Shocked by the blaring sound, the bees rapidly flew away in alarmed buzzes, disappeared like dust in the air. 

“Lady Seulgi!” it yelled again.

Finally, it had pierced through the bubble she called solitary silence so the lady in question removed herself from a crouching position, and faced the direction of the sound. The towering sunflowers could not give her the slightest vision, and harsh morning light seems to only burden her further; but as the rustle of the leaves gradually drew closer, it indicated the caller will be revealing itself. And finally, like a weaving an inverted curtain, popped Yeri, a lady shorter than she is, eyes large and bright, and lips naturally pouted. She has an eye of mischief, though. 

“Lady Seulgi! We were all looking for you!…Anyway, sorry for disturbing you, but haven’t you been informed of our visitor today?” She released in a pant. Despite her apologies, her eyes glittered nothing resembling remorse.

“Yes, I know Yeri, I will be with you sooner.” Seulgi, the other girl replied monotonously. She has bronze-hair, sharp-eyed, upper lip thinned while the lower is full. Her eyes were bronze as well-- as well as her skin, albeit in a lighter shade. Short to say, she was beautiful - she was the most beautiful woman of Greece, after all. She continued to stare at her intruder, who doesn’t seem to budge.

“Um… Good, then I shall expect you at the dressing room in half an hour.” 

Without waiting for a reply, Yeri disappeared again in the bunch of sunflowers.

Seulgi released a sigh and gazed disappointingly at the sunflower she was watching a while ago. For the morning, the sunflowers that she so loved were the only thing that arouses curiosity - which she will pass as joy - for truly, the past weeks had not given her the slightest. Her husband, Paris, was away to pacify a furor in a farther island, and only being acquainted with a fair amount of servants, she was grimly rendered in a great depression until he comes back. It is not new, however; for some reason, there is a sadness she could not stop whenever she gazes at an empty bed in the morning. 

She closed her eyes for a while, mulling over the hollow inside her chest - although she always reminded herself that she shouldn’t - which is sometimes savage and piercing, and for nights too often, she found herself at tears. More so when she imagined her lover in the perils of death, but she tried to not think of that this time.

When she looked back at the crops of sunflowers, it didn’t have the same robustness and brightness anymore, and the sky, for an inexplicable reason, seemed to turn gray. 

Entering the backdoor through the kitchen, the jostle of their helpers surprised her. A maid briskly walked in front of her holding a large pan, prompting her to step back outside. She was to curse as her slippers dug on the wet dirt she hardly avoided a while ago but, suddenly, someone dragged her to the other side of the house. And in a blink, she was already in the side of the dressing room, all the servants all about her as they dressed her up.

“Who will be the visitor be again?” 

“I reckon it was someone of royalty, ergo, the formalities. But, other than that, I only know she’s someone’s daughter for a brief vacation, until the end of spring: according to lady Yeri. Have you not been informed?” The amber-eyed servant who was measuring her waist said. She never saw this servant, perhaps she was new.

“I had been briefed, although, I am ashamed to say I got distracted… um… Will my husband be coming tonight?” Worry etched on her forehead at the prospect of meeting a visitor alone - he was always there when there are important events. 

“I suppose so, as they said, she is ‘important’. Perhaps you would both need to be there. Isn’t it at the end of this week that your Majesty will return? I suppose he would come early!” the servant replied jubilantly, more so when the frown on her lady’s lips upturned into a beam.

“Well then! You should dress me best for tonight!” she exclaimed. And the servant could only nod enthusiastically.

Night came and the preparation was already in full swing. Seulgi, in her full green chiton, wandered around asking for her husband’s arrival.

“Oh! He will come, he will! He won’t miss the opportunity to see you in these fine robes!” Her guard told her. But compliments weren’t the thing she was looking for.

“Perhaps…perhaps, when the food is served - the head lady is cooking today - he likes her food the most!” one of the cooks informed: not the answer either.

She saw Yeri lounging atop the grass at the edge of the sunflower crops where the meadow starts, she was hugging her knees and gazing at the moon. She sauntered slowly, careful to not rip her robes from a branch askew. Behind her, the din of the preparations gradually muffles as she walks farther.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She started, placing herself beside the girl.

“Nothing… it's just…” 

Against the moonlight, Yeri’s face contained a soft glow, and the hesitance in her eyes was more apparent. 

“Just?”

“Well… the visitor… now that she’s here, you would have someone to accompany you.” Yeri faced her as she finished. For a while, the soft hymn of the cicadas carried them and they let it seeped through the silence. But it was apparent that the younger girl still had something to say. 

“That is correct, and?”

“And… I just hope… really hope that this time - this time, you wouldn’t feel as sad anymore when your husband’s gone.” She sighed. “For- for it seems I could not be a well company to you… to not you make lonely as you are,” Yeri muttered, once again returning to her endeavor of gazing at the moon.

“Yeri…” Seulgi moved her hand to the younger girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I have ever made you think that… that is not true in the slightest, you have given me comfort and amusement more than anyone.” She assured her, and it was the truth. For the days - or even weeks - when Paris was gone, Yeri, even being the head lady’s servant who had nothing owed to her, had gone all the way, dragging her to whichever place she wanted to wander, in high hopes of entertaining her, or in the slightest: abate her loneliness. However, she seemed to be a lost cause. “It’s just… just me. I don’t know…” She finished.

The girl frowned her head in alarm as she watched her lady descend into a train of thought.

“No! Don’t worry about it… I know… My mother said something… What was it… Oh! she said: some people are like that - induced in a strange inexorable sadness. Some die through it, with it; but, you have your husband my lady!” She tried to reassure. It bore no fruit, however.

Seulgi only breathed out in return, and before Yeri could inquire longer, a servant’s voice, at the far end of the plot, where the mansion is located, requested for the lady’s presence. 

“Well, I must go…Care to join us for dinner?” 

*

  
For what must be the hundredth time that day, she looked at her reflection. This time, however, she was looking at a leftover puddle and not an ornamented mirror, but she could still see her features clearly.

She had blue doe-eyes, platinum blonde hair, and a soft nose. She had some uncertainty over appearance - not that she was hideous - but because she still had a visage that of a god; which is true, as her siblings had insisted, she was forced to retain the same countenance as she was in Olympus. 

“Their sculptures of you are far-off anyway, you won’t be seeing mortals bow to you anytime soon! Not even the shape of your face was right, everything was amiss!” Artemis said. “And! you should look as charming as possible to befriend her! But of course, you’re not allowed to look like me.” Aphrodite unhelpfully supplied, which Irene wasn’t sure if it was for condescension or to advise. 

In contrast to their advice, however, she still turned heads in her little time, and to her chagrin, attracted other mortals as well - which she declined with a contemptuous glare. 

She sighed. It’s too late to change anything now, and perhaps, this would aid her better to pursue the lady of Troy in friendship. As she saw, mortals view those who are socially good-looking better than those who aren’t. Although she did not agree to this standpoint, she had to use this for her advantage for the meantime.  
  
“You may enter.”

After only a short while of waiting outside, the soldier standing guard bowed her inside. She gathered her robes to ascend the steps and sneaked in the entrance.

The first thing she noticed of the house was: it was nothing less of the castle where King Priam housed. It was just as large and just as luxurious. 

She firstly entered a narrow passage after a huge oak door, that reaches for the ceiling; and then finally, after what seemed forever, emerged at a large hall. The halls were covered in marble, marring patterns of different colors. White furniture scattered artistically in the middle of four columns - forming a square in its corners - which pronounced an elevated circular ceiling. All was illuminated by innumerable torch lights casting a soft orange glow that was reflected generously all over the room; and as the servants traveled to-and-fro, in and out through the door from the far left, their shadows danced like black stars on the floor. All the dazzle stunned her as she slightly shied her face away from the view.

“Lady Irene?” 

She turned at the sound and saw a young, vibrant woman, who was no less beautiful than her. This must be Lady Seulgi. She inquired her thoughts, but the other girl only hid her mouth with her hand in a chuckle.

“No, that was flattering, but…” She held her finger up. “No, I am not the most beautiful woman in Greece - (at least in everyone’s standard except mine, she seemed to mutter) - there… there she is!”

As if on cue, a hurried clacking of heels resonated at the far end of the hall, the servants diverging on its wake. By the time it stopped, she didn’t need the lady beside her to point out who was who among the crowd.

The Goddess of Peace held her breath, “So this is the most beautiful woman of Greece.” she whispered to herself.

She watched the bronze mane slide from the lady’s abrupt stop; her bronze skin glow under the light torch, and the flecks of gold in her eyes that flashed and faded as it watched her alarmingly.

However, before she could revel completely in her beauty, the young lady beside her spoke up.

“Lady Seulgi, this is Irene, daughter of Philemon, the brewer of wine, and Ilena, the finest seamstress of Troy. For King Priam, she would be a close friend’s daughter; if you’d ask the queen, she would’ve had branded her as her own. But tonight, she will be, to you… a companion or a friend till the end of spring!” The lady proclaimed.

For a while, she drowned in the other girl’s eyes - and the other was no better than her. She held a staring contest of neither appraisal nor conceit, but simple, unadulterated awe. The girl has sharp and thin eyes - of which didn’t have another lid like hers -, and the way she stared at her was filled with nothing but innocence and child-like amazement as if she was a fire blazing in different colors.

And so, they watched each other with the attention an eagle has to its prey, and they did not notice the disposal of the servants once again, and the arrangement of food at a sleek brown table at the far end. 

And before she could get to herself and notice the world - as she was supposed to - in fine detail, the lady of Troy had already placed herself in front of her, who walked in front of her without her notice.

The lady bunched her cheeks up and bowed lightly,

“Seulgi, Seulgi of Troy. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” The bronze-eyed lady whispered, lips slowly parting to make way for a white set of teeth. Her golden eyes still flickered all while. 

In her awe, Irene only registered how she faintly smelled of the grass and of the sea, and how the lady perfectly embodied them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an important question to ask: should I change Seulgi (Helen)'s father as someone else - which is supposedly Zeus - to perhaps, a royal in Sparta, or perhaps, a commoner? By then, it wouldn't scream incest anymore. I have no prevailing opinions regarding their current pretext since it is normal in Greek Myth, and I am currently still debating with myself - but perhaps the idea would bother you so, and you could help me decide. Anyhow, if there is no response, I suppose, I would just flip a coin or smth.
> 
> (the next update will either be tomorrow or next week: tomorrow if I have the motivation, or, next week, forced by myself). 
> 
> Thank you for your reading c:


	3. She who came from Sparta and She who came from Crete

“Should I bring this in?” 

“Yes, make haste!” 

The servant rapidly gathered the large plate arranged in front of the masonry oven and straightened herself before she squeezed between the other servants coming in and out.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she left the smoldering kitchen, as though they were being cooked in the oven themselves, and relished in the cool breeze of the night. 

Walking forth the table, she could overhear the two ladies in an animated conversation; one speaking energetically, and one chuckling every now and then. But they went silent as she placed the large plate in between them.

“And, this - what is this?” the blonde-haired girl asked, blue eyes looking at her zealously. Before she could answer, the lady of the house spoke up. 

“That’s roasted chicken, legumes, and eek-- olives.” She said enthusiastically but grumbled the end with obvious disgust.

“I take it you don’t like olives.” The other girl chuckled as she pinched an olive with her fork. 

“Hate would better suit it.” Seulgi groaned, meticulously forking the hen in the middle. 

While they engage in a chortle once again, they did not notice the servant return to the kitchen and another one coming in: a male one this time, balancing a bottle of wine and two wine glasses, then placing it at each of the girl’s side of the table. And in the same formality and swiftness, fixed his robes and gone back to the kitchen.

This process was repeated until, gradually, the long table was filled with all sorts of food. At the farthest end of the table lies the cheese and egg; and beside it was vegetables arranged at a single long plate - ranging from carrots, cabbage, asparagus, cucumbers and etc.; and finally, in front of them, at the middle of the long table, was the chicken, fishes, pork, and bread - and of course, the wine.

“This is a lot…” Irene muttered in amazement. “Do you often eat like this?” 

“No - at least until there is an occasion.” She responded, seemingly as astonished as Irene was. “--which is a rare event that is. Usually, though, we only have fish for dinner-- anyway, I like them more, especially shellfishes, but a rarity they are.” 

She consumed another slice of fish and finished it with a glass of wine. Irene did the same, aiming the first slice on the pork, which released its oil upon the force, timidly ate it, and drank the wine beside her.

“I reckon your father has a vineyard - better yet, a fine and prominent one at that. So, Lady Irene, how does our measly wine suit your taste?” Seulgi jested.

“Well, as a fine wine taster myself - as I had been forced by my father to be - I could say that it passed my taste in flying colors.” Irene returned, a grin growing on her lips. “But, of course - not enough to par with my fathers.” She finished and giggled when the other girl smiled at the insinuation.

“Yes, perhaps, we have a long way to go. We have just started a year ago. But as you fancy it as fine, then I am relieved.” 

Their conversation pursued a playful banter while at the same time, getting to know each other, the moon outside slowly crept up to its peak, until the servants stopped bringing out food and only picking up the empty plates.

Irene was proud of her progress. Just an hour and two with the Lady of Troy, she had already known her more, that they had already passed acquaintance. She had known that the girl was born in Sparta, her father was Myron, a famous Philosopher in Sparta - who was close with the King Agamemnon - and her mother was Delbin, who runs their farm. She was close to her mother and spent more time tending to their farm than conversing at the plaza with her father and his friends, but her father didn’t let her pass her lessons with him. 

As she grew up, to her father’s displeasure, she had adopted an endeavor to the arts - like sculpting and painting - than the academia. In her teens, she had spent her time painting their farm and people, and sometimes, she sculpted - although nothing convoluted and large, as she was still learning. 

She had skipped over the part of her marriage and her travel here, but Irene understood. So she nodded along as Seulgi regaled how she started a sunflower farm - along with other crops - at the same time when their house was being built, and how she was overjoyed to oversee how the sunflowers grew from seeds to maturity. _You should’ve seen how marvelous they were, it was as if I was watching a house being built - there was quite in fact, a house being built, but I had ignored it - anyway, sunflowers are astonishing!_ She singsonged and a piece of meat almost fell to her robes in her excitement.

“We have our own chickens too!” She babbled eagerly. “We have lots of animals, in fact, but we do rarely slay them - for I rather them not - and we usually just keep them.”

“That’s not a wise business strategy.” Irene gibed. “But you do not all these economy banter I suppose.” 

“Yes, thankfully, or else we would’ve gone penniless.” 

They laughed healthily while the servants collected the last empty plates and then returned to the kitchen. Irene was determined to know more about the other girl, to milk the festive atmosphere during the night, so she could aid herself fully for the coming days - she doesn’t know when a mirthful night will come again anyway. 

She was to speak that was until the bronze-haired girl stopped laughing. As if waking up from a dream, she removed her hand from hovering her lips and stared at the table. As if realizing something important, and it was true, Irene realized it too: Paris was not there.

Promptly, a guard marched inside, his armor clanking as his walks were brisk and firm. She recognized him as the guard who bowed him inside. When he reached them, he leaned down to the lady’s level and whispered, but the Goddess heard it nonetheless.

“Prince Paris’ arrival has been delayed for another week. But rest assured, it will not be pushed anymore - there was just an unprecedented emergency. I’m sorry.” 

As the guard left, Seulgi still had her eyes planted on the table as if she did not move nor breathe as the guard came and went. This time, however, an apparent feature had informed Irene that she would not achieve more of her goal tonight.

While her eyes glowed gold - as it absorbed the orange lights - a while ago, her eyes this time were frozen and stagnant. Like the olives left untouched a while ago. And the air around her became stagnant, like in a room untouched by oxygen; Irene had to straighten herself so that the air won’t suck her.

In her deep scrutiny, she noticed how the other lady swallowed heavily and how her breath seems to become sluggish. 

“Perhaps we should save our conversation for another time, aren’t you tired?… Madam! could you guide her to her quarters!” She said this mechanically as if she was still in the process of realization. She hastily collected herself, with the energy of a wooden puppet moderated by precise hands, and Irene only realized what had happened when a strong thud of a door awakened her.

*

The lady servant tucked the sheets of her bed in every corner, then smoothed the wrinkles, for a while she seemed to contemplate, and then finally, left the room, only to come back with two stout pillows - which she hit twice - until she planted it on the bed.

Irene watched the whole process absentmindedly, contemplating how the lady switched her mood instantly just by the mere mention of her husband’s absence. But she caught on the servant before she leaves.

“Is she always like that?” She asked, seeing that the servant was clueless she continued: “I mean, does she always become melancholic …the lady I mean… whenever her husband has gone absent?”

The servant pondered for a while, and then: “Yes…since she came her… she was always submitted to despondence that is - until Prince Paris returns… I suppose she has every right to, I mean, she was suddenly brought here. All her life and all she had known, she left; and suddenly, she’s in a place she had never known off. Perhaps she just misses her home… or her husband as she insists - but that, I do not know off.” The servant said, and waited; hearing no reply or even an acknowledgment, she bowed to her left as she finished. 

The other girl stayed at her position, finger caressing her chin in thought: “Yes, maybe she is sad or worse - depressed. As the servant said, she must miss home or her husband - or that she misses home and her husband is the only impetus. Well, I have all the spring to myself.” She plopped down the bed and sleep came to her the moment she closed her eyes.

*

She sat the table alone for breakfast, a simple bread, cheese, and milk spread on the table, but with no Seulgi. As she finished her meal quickly, she asked around for the lady. They had uttered ‘the farm’, but the farm was too big for her to know where to start. But finally, she came upon a large-eyed lady with a tight face, who pompously introduced herself as Yeri. She didn’t wear the usual servant's garment and she was just lazing about on the sofa in the middle of the hall, so Irene presumed she saw who went where. 

“This early morning, yes, she is in the ‘farm’. You won’t find her though unless you really want to - I mean, as in _really_ want to. She’s deep in the sunflower crops that you’d have to use a sixth sense to know where. But I suggest: don’t bother…Though she won’t be here until noon when lunch’s out. I mean, it’s only a suggestion, should I come with you?” 

And so, she found herself with Yeri as they swam inside the sunflower crops. She hoped that they really could find her and that she may finish this as fast as possible, but just a minute into the crops, she had already lost Yeri - and her callings seemed only to be lost between the stems of vast crops as though it didn’t exist at all. 

She felt herself to be in an endless horizon as she weaved in and out every clearing, but what had seemed to her a whole circle the whole time. In her tiredness, she sat down for a while and collected her breath.

When she finally collected herself, she tried to accentuate her senses, closing her eyes in concentration. She felt the gentle air pass by and the sweltering heat, which procured a sheen of sweat in her underarms and forehead; she smelled the dry and wood-like scent around her; she heard the tittering of the bugs, a distant rustle, and finally, a hum.

She woke herself up and started for the hum, which she assumed to be the lady. After weaving through, and when she thought it won’t end anymore, she arrived at another clearing.

At the clearing, she saw the Seulgi laying on her back, hitchhiker seeds prickling her clothes - which everyone would’ve found itchy - but she was stilled in her reverie, with her eyes closed, and a steady hum chiming in the air. 

Unable to disturb the girl, she observed her mystified: how the sunbathed on her bronze skin; how her hair shimmered to gold whenever it moves slightly; and how elegant she was in the backdrop of sunflowers and grass - as if she was an the focal point in a painting; and her hum that cascades and falls steadily, a deep sugary voice, sounding like a cello played under a sea of honey. It stopped. 

“Who’s there?” She pronounced, but she didn’t open her eyes. 

“U-uh, Irene!” The blue-eyed girl squeaked in surprise. Hearing only a hum of recognition from the other, not even a movement, she continued: “I was… I was wondering if I could - or you could - join me, or you. I could not find myself something to do inside the house… so can I join you?”

The other girl raised herself with her elbow and gazed at her. “Suit yourself, but usually I stay her in the morning until noon. I was planning to accompany you through the farm after lunch, but do you suppose you could hang out with me here?” 

“Yes, perfectly, and I think, we haven’t finished our conversation yesterday.”

Seulgi moved a little to give space and lied down again. Seeing all the seeds that clutched to the other girl’s clothes, she only sat with her legs crossed. 

“Do you like being here?” Irene started.

“Yes, very much, sunflowers remind me of home as I’ve said.”

“So you are always here?”

“In the morning, yes, but of course, when it’s raining or snowing, I have to be inside.”

“Hmm…” Irene looked around her, but only the sunflowers and the decrepit farm sled seemed worth the observation. 

“Then… what about you?” Seulgi turned to her side. When she saw Irene only raise her eyebrows she continued, “I mean, what do you in the mornings?”

“Well, I only observe humans most of the time.” She looked back at her, but noticing her mistake, she corrected herself hastily, “Yes… observe… I lounge about the plaza and watch people walk by.” 

“That’s fun…” 

“Was that sarcasm?” 

“No… I wish I could too… I’m not allowed to go out here.”

When Irene looked back at her in confusion, the other girl already had her eyes closed, once again humming a tune. 

“You can’t? For what reason?”

For what seemed to be half of the hymn she was humming, she finally answered: “Yes, I can’t, couldn’t, won’t, or any else; just that, I am stuck here forever.” she said nonchalantly. She stretched her arms upward and when it cracked, she dropped it lifelessly. 

“By all means… what is the cause?”

“It’s dangerous… we don’t know who roams around Troy, it may be merchants out of Greek - say, someone from Egypt - or perhaps, as they feared, a soldier from Sparta… But mind you, I would rather have myself risked to death - or abduction - than be stuck here forever…” she whispered sadly, but seemingly surprised, she returned into her jaunty tune. “But! enough about me! So, Lady Irene, tell me about Crete.” 

The other girl mimicked her pose and looked at her in curiosity and excitement, as though she were to learn how to paint for the first time, that Irene had already forgotten the dejection in her tone a while ago.

“ _Crete_?”

“Yes, your home as you have said!”

“Oh…yes, I said… there’s a mountain there.” Seulgi looked at her as if saying: _yes, I assume there’s a mountain everywhere in Greece_ ; so she supplied: “No, not a mountain - but a volcano. But it doesn’t explode - at least for the meantime - and in the middle, of it, there’s clear water; as clear as the sky. Many have reverence for it, and usually, travelers go to Crete for the sole purpose of drinking its water. They said it’s a gift from the gods!”

“A water as clear as the sky! Then, have you drank on it?”

“Yes, it might as well have drunk it more than anyone - we live nearby. And though I am not an expert in water as I am with wine, I could recognize how different it tastes in comparison to the water I drank here.”

“And the difference being?”

“It’s sweet!”

Seulgi’s eyes shimmered as though it was the sun, and her smile slowly found its way on her cheeks. The breeze that perturbed her bronze hair causing its strands to prickle her eyes, made them chuckle. And when she said she wanted to know more about Crete, Irene knew she had her for the rest of the day. 

*

As she gazed at the moon, its crescent white light in all its glory - only momentarily muddled by the clouds that passed by -, she recollected how the day has turned. 

She had piqued the other girl’s curiosity. They had conversed all about the trivialities - how she spends her morning to afternoon, how she does her hair, how she liked her dinners prepared. And she should be relieved, after all, little progress is still progress, but it seemed to her that all the while she was attempting to get through the other - beyond the trifles -, her efforts seemed to be denied rigorously.

For instance, when she asked about her painting - which she was planning to lead through about her husband. 

“Well…I stopped painting… for a long time. Not just ‘since I came here’…just a very long time…” 

But, Irene had surmised that she stopped painting ever since her marriage, shown through her reluctance in elaborating the said topic. She could not think of other reasons after all that would make her do except that she was forced into being a woman of the house, unable to spare time for her hobbies.

Mulling deeply through her thoughts, she did not hear the flapping of wings and the rustle of the tree behind her. 

_“Sister”_ , it squawked but Irene understood it. 

“What brings you here my dear brother?” Irene faced the vulture atop a tree. Like an ominous statue, it glowered at her.

 _“Nothing, just that Zeus Cronides needed an update on your progress. He asked, ‘can she do it’. But seeing your face right now, I assume you are having difficulties no?”_ It squawked again, ruffling its wings at the same time, but Irene fancied it to be mocking and haughty.

“Yes, Ares. There are indeed problems - but no such problems I could not overcome.” She scoffed and turned her back against him.

_“Well, just to refresh, you don’t have all the time sister, Agamemnon is enraged - more now, as he had a fight with Achilles (very childish fight as I can say) - so you better hasten. No pressure though, but just a heads up so you won’t be surprised when there is battle outside Troy’s gates.”_

Before Irene could properly scowl at him, the vulture flew to the moon, and little by little it disappeared without a trace. 

Irene sighed, she will not give up just yet. She felt her interest piqued, also. Seulgi was a person she could not perceive. She could tell whenever a man lies through his teeth, or when a lady smiles with nothing resembling joy; she could figure out whenever an ox is vetted, or when a child is sad. But Seulgi, she could feel her smiles and curiosity as genuine, and yet, for some reasons, at the same time, it felt like it didn’t exist at all - like a mere beautiful picture from painting. She was a paradox - the genuine, and the unreal.

“There must be more to it… more to her marriage. If she is so jubilant with him, why is she reluctant to mention even mention his name or at least the events that had him? Should she not relish in the memories she has than mope about his absence - or am I reading it too much. Perhaps, she just truly misses the Prince…”

She could not think more as a servant called her for dinner. But she decided, she will try to dig deeper the next day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So clearly, I have decided to change Seulgi's father - since it won't really matter in the story. Thank you for the replies to my question! 
> 
> (and if you didn't notice, I added slowburn to the tags, since I still don't know how to pace this (*#&*%(#) - prepare for more chapters where they'll just be vibing xd)

**Author's Note:**

> ++I am not thoroughly knowledgable about Greek Mythology, though I can say I have read and researched enough for the details necessary. If then, there are factual mistakes, please don't hesitate to correct me (or grammar mistakes - any mistakes really)


End file.
